We were all exhausted and hurt, tense from the other Hellion attacks that could be lurking around the corners. For all we knew, dozens of Hellion skiffs could have dropped from under the Behemoth while we were in the tunnels. Searchlights embedded on the bottom of five Hellion raiding ships shone down on the ruins of Westraven, blotting out the shadows as they looked for fresh meat. After what felt like hours of running around corners, dodging shadows, listening to distant shrieks and piercing rasps, we saw the welcome sight of the wide tarmac, random crates scattered on the outside, available to the marauders if they ever needed to bring them in for storage. The air hangar sat invitingly in the distance. Sawyer jogged to a stop and glanced along the clearing, a dangerous distance to cross when so many Hellion skiffs were out and when I was already a target for the monsters. A dim glow drifted over the left of the ports. A Hellion skiff was wandering close by.
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